


A Good Life (The Worry Woman Remix)

by Moonflower999



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Forgiveness, Gen, Healing, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-24 07:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14950493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonflower999/pseuds/Moonflower999
Summary: Morgana is finally free. She’s left vengeance behind, and in the process she has become estranged from Morgause. While she still feels the loss of those she once thought of as her dearest friends and family, she is content to know they are well, and she finds meaning and solace in travelling from village to village serving as  a worry woman.





	A Good Life (The Worry Woman Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EachPeachPearPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/gifts), [daroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/gifts), [texasfandoodler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/texasfandoodler/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Worry Woman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262759) by [daroh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daroh/pseuds/daroh), [EachPeachPearPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum). 



> Dear Readers: This story can stand alone, but I think it's probably much much richer if you read it after you read Eachpeachpearplum and Daroh's wonderful story "The Worry Woman" https://archiveofourown.org/works/2262759/chapters/4968936  
> And while you're there...or over here, do check out the wonderful texasfandoodler's art for the original story. This fandom misses Tex greatly, but her work lives on with us. https://archiveofourown.org/works/2263086
> 
> Dear EachPeachPearplum,  
> I love you. Ooops...ok...way to scare you off. I am so in love with several of your stories. When I got you I thought for sure I knew what I wanted to remix...and then I noticed it wasn't yet complete. And then I found something else, and it also didn't qualify. And then I read a bunch of your stuff...and much to your credit...it felt so very complete that I couldn't think of what I could possibly add. One of the things I love about your writing is that you scratch all my itches....there is a thoroughness that is so very satisfying. Anyway, I finally came back to your wonderful story "The Worry Woman". And then I realized it was co-written. I was so lucky to be able to get in touch with Daroh who couldn't have been more lovely about me remixing this. So, Peach and Daroh...thank you so much for this wonderful, gorgeous gift of a story. It soothed my soul in important ways...touching on themes of forgiveness, redemption, healing. Your Gwaine is a marvel, and you gave Morgana the attention she deserved but didn't get in canon. I'm shaking in my boots, dearly hoping that you like what I've done here-
> 
> Finally, to my amazing beta, Pelydryn, who is so patient and helpful and encouraging even though I'm so perennially last minute...this is so much better with your suggestions...much love and appreciation. And to my dear cheerleaders, Plutonia and Diana_Prallon...I hope you know how much your support helps me over the scary parts! ViridianJane, thanks so much for holding my hand while I was agonizing about what Peach would like. And Kitty_fic, I cannot thank you enough for hosting this amazing fest!

Morgana closed the door to her cottage and headed down the path to the marketplace. Truth be told, she needed to purchase very little as her clients gifted her with all manner of stuff. Baskets appeared on her front porch at all hours, and she never knew what she might uncover. One day she stepped out to a shaking hamper from which the sweetest peeping sounds emanated. She now had her own little flock of chickens. Another day brought her a bundle containing a bolt of fine but practical cloth dyed the most lovely shade of green. There were spools of thread dyed exactly to match and a note from the dressmaker inviting her to come in for a fitting. She was particularly thrilled when her advice worked out well for the baker, as now she regularly opened her door to freshly baked goods: fine yeast loaves, muffins, or--her very favorite--sweet bread. All in all, it was a good life. Morgana felt more at home than she had ever expected to.

For months Morgana had travelled from village to village, remaining for a month or two, but never setting root. She’d take a room with a family or at a local inn, set up her tent, and earn her keep by listening to people’s worries and giving sage advice. Her depth of understanding and compassion were great assets, and she provided wise counsel. Her tendency to anger quickly in the face of injustice also bolstered the confidence of those who confided in her; they often left her strengthened in their own resolve to fight for what was right. The worry woman, as she called herself, became much loved as the lives of those she touched improved time after time. Again and again, villagers lined the street to see her off and begged her to return to them soon. But since the day she had left Morgause, after returning from her secret visit to Camelot disguised as the worry woman, Morgana had found no place she wanted to call home.

The priestess had left Camelot behind more at peace than she had ever expected possible. Her months there as Camelot’s worry woman had helped her make peace with the past. She was free, in a way she never thought possible (and never would have thought she wanted). She no longer yearned to rule Camelot, and even more, she no longer hungered for vengeance. Her time as worry woman had reawoken her native compassion. Arthur’s acceptance of Merlin’s magic had made it clear to her that she had misjudged him. She often wondered how things would have been different if she had trusted Arthur, but she now felt sure that as Uther’s days were numbered, so would the oppression of magic be ended. Some days she felt as if a clean wind was coming to sweep the land free of Uther’s evil vendetta.

So Morgana left Camelot at peace. More than a little sad to leave those she had loved--still loved--but also drawn back to Morgause, free to practice her magic and be herself. She returned home satisfied and eager to tell her sister of the new hope. Unfortunately, Morgause was not as happy as Morgana had expected. She went from wheedling to cajoling to belittling and berating...trying to convince Morgana that she had been duped, and that the only place she belonged was on Camelot’s throne. They fought. They avoided each other. They fought some more. 

Finally, Morgana snapped, “You are no different from Uther. I am no more to you than a pawn to be used in your plans. Goodbye, sister. I cannot live here any longer.”

Morgause gazed at Morgana, steely-eyed. “So be it.”

Morgana set out the next morning. She was angry and hurting, but felt strangely free. For the first time in her life there was no one to expect anything of her, and she could live exactly as she saw fit. At first, Morgana did as she had done in Camelot, except there was no need for a spell to disguise herself so far from the city. So when she came to a village that appealed to her, she set up her tent and hung out her shingle. It read: _Tell Your Worries to the Worry Woman--Confidential Listening and Good Advice Guaranteed._ She spent three or four weeks there before moving on to another village.

As winter approached, Morgana decided that it would be best to let a small cottage for the season. And now it was spring again, but she found herself loathe to pack up her possessions and move on. Though she had no close connections here, she took comfort in the affections and kindnesses of the villagers. It warmed her soul and healed something deep inside to be seen as someone who was trustworthy, wise, and of great help. 

Morgana couldn’t help but laugh ruefully as she reflected on the outcome of casting that very first spell to transform herself into the worry woman. It is one of the very first lessons that magic (and indeed, all power) must be wielded carefully--for it can have unintended consequences. When Morgana had decided to seek vengeance by becoming Cassandra, the worry woman, and using that disguise to uncover Camelot’s secret vulnerabilities, she had never expected that her time listening to woes and bestowing wisdom would reawaken her own compassion and concern for...well...everyone. Morgana was no longer a defiant and angry force of destruction. And too, she was more than she had been as a young, innocent, empathetic girl. Her heart had been broken and had healed. Her eyes had been opened and could never be closed again. Wisdom had been hard-earned, but it was now hers to keep. She reflected on all of this as she swept the dust from her doorstep. Stooping down to uncover a small basket, she found a lovely nosegay of snowdrops and crocuses. Her smile was soft and sincere as she placed the flowers into a glass of water.

Clients came and went. The better weather brought farmers from some of the outlying areas, and Morgana was quite busy enough. One day, as she approached the marketplace, she saw a small gathering at the opposite end. Her eyes widened and her heart began to race as she caught sight of a rider in tell-tale Camelot red. Lest she be recognized, she quickly turned about and headed back to her home.

Outside the cottage Morgana took down her sign board, rushed inside, shut the door firmly, and made sure the curtains were drawn tightly. Still apprehensive, she placed a subtle spell of protection around her little cottage, weaving in a suggestion that should cause passers-by to skim past the dwelling as insignificant.

And yet...barely a few minutes later...there was a knock.

“Morgana. Please answer the door. It’s Gwaine. You have nothing to fear.”

Morgana cowered in panic for a moment, then went to the door, stilled her shaking hands by sheer willpower, and pulled her most self-confident and haughty attitude on like a suit of armour. She opened the door.

“Gwaine. To what do I owe the pleasure?” she said. Her tone of voice conveyed that this visit was not at all welcome.

Gwaine grinned at her, held up a bottle of fine cordial, and said, “Invite me in, Princess. Let’s talk. I have so much to tell you.”

Morgana couldn’t help but warm up a bit at the sight of Gwaine’s infectious smile. She allowed him to enter, and Gwaine scanned the room, taking in all the little touches of comfort.

“It looks like you’ve been making yourself at home here,” said Gwaine, taking a seat at the table.

Morgana sat down too and then cut right to the chase. “How did you find me? Why have you come?”

“Well, Princess, I missed you quite a lot! It was quite difficult not to follow you that day that you left us once again.” Gwaine caught Morgana’s eye, and for just a moment he let his flirtatious facade slip...allowing Morgana to glimpse his regret

“But you didn’t.” Her voice revealed nothing of Morgana’s feelings.

“No.” Gwaine hung his head, shaking it slightly.

“But now?” 

“Well, now it’s quite different, love.” Gwaine looked back up, and his grin lit up the room.

“Different how?” Morgana couldn’t keep the curiosity from her voice.

“I let you go so easily before because I knew there was no place for you in Camelot...yet.” 

“Yet…?”

“I should explain.”

“Yes, please do.”

Gwaine grabbed Morgana’s hand. “Morgana...everyone knew. Well, not everyone...and not at first...but soon after you left we all put it together.”

Morgana went pale. “Everyone? Everyone knew precisely what, Gwaine?”

“Everyone: Arthur, Merlin, Gwen, Lancelot, Gaius. Each and every single one of them knew that you were the worry woman.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Everyone knew. Gwen said that she could never not know your eyes, or the way your shoulders tighten when you are distressed. Arthur said you have such a specific and rather spectacular way of being blunt that he would recognize it anywhere. Lancelot...well...he said he had a dream...and that he just ‘knew’. Gaius said he wept with joy to see you returned to yourself--free of the poison of bitter resentment. He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he just knew. And Merlin...Merlin said he would never not know the signature of your magic.”

“And yet they told me their secrets? Why?”

“Well, some of them didn’t realise immediately. Merlin did, but he also said that he just knew he could trust you...and felt it was worth taking the chance. No one spoke of it until you had gone. Not one of us was willing to see you burn. That’s why we each kept quiet. That is why no one tried to stop you from leaving. But now we all want you to come home--and now you can!”

Morgana shook her head. “Uther is still king. There is no place for me in Camelot while he sits on the throne.”

“Oh. Um. Yes, about that--so, here’s the scoop. Uther is king in name only. He is confined to his chambers, and Arthur is Regent.”

“I...no...there is no way Arthur would ever overthrow his father. And the council? No. I cannot believe this is truth.”

Gwaine continued, “I suppose news travels slowly in the countryside. I know it is hard to believe. But Arthur is a good man, and eventually things got so bad that he had no choice but to take a stand. And all but the most craven, depraved members of the council had no choice but to support him.”

“Please, Gwaine. They allowed him to burn sorcerers for all these years. What could he have done that was so much worse?”

“Before, he was executing those who had been proven to use sorcery. The people believed him when he said that sorcerers were evil and dangerous. But within recent months Uther began ordering the knights to conduct random raids on homes, stop and search people at the marketplace and actively ‘encourage’ citizens to spy on their neighbors. Any sign of anything vaguely related to the old religion led to arrest: a long-forgotten charm in the bottom of a dresser drawer, a belt made of a certain kind of knot-work, the singing of an old, all-but-forgotten hymn.  
He did not put all of these people to death; he imprisoned some, and he sold others into slavery. He ripped their young children from their arms, locked the tikes into a fenced up city of tents outside the town walls, and caged them like wild animals.”

Gwaine’s voice shook as he spoke. “Arthur was beside himself. He considered every possibility. But he knew that until he had the majority of the knights and the council on his side, it would be hopeless to effect change. He worked tirelessly to gain support. He spent more than a few nights in the dungeons after pushing back against Uther. But each time, he gained more support. Finally, when almost every knight and most of the council members could be counted on, we locked Uther in his chambers. The council declared Arthur Regent for the King, and officially placed Uther under house arrest.”

Morgana stared at Gwaine, eyes wide in disbelief.

“One month ago, the laws against the use of magic were repealed.”

Morgana gasped.

“Merlin was named Advisor to the King’s Regent, and I volunteered to set out to find you and invite you to come home and join the Council as one of the representatives of the magical community.”

Morgana crossed her arms on the table, and rested her head on her arms. She was utterly still for several moments, and then her breath hitched and her shoulders began to shake. Gwaine took a chance. He rose from his seat, went to her side, and wrapped his arms around her. Morgana turned into his embrace, and for the first time in a very long time, she let herself be comforted.

“Come home, Morgana.”

Morgana pulled away and gathered herself. She felt so lost and searched for answers in Gwaine’s face.

“Come home.”

“I..I don’t know how.”

“I’ve brought an extra horse for you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

Gwaine laughed. “I know.”

“I don’t know how to face everyone again.”

“Let me make it easier for you.”

Morgana wrinkled her brow in confusion. “How?”

“You’ll see. I’ll be back soon.” With that, Gwaine walked out the door and closed it behind him.

Morgana was lost in thought when another knock on the door startled her. “Come in, Gwaine!”

“I’ve brought you something to make it all easier.”

Morgana turned towards the door and looked right into Guinevere’s eyes. Her jaw dropped, and she found herself speechless, arms full of the best friend she had ever had. Gwen drew Morgana over to the bed and sat down beside her. Morgana began to sob, and Gwen comforted her in the old familiar way she used to when Morgana had had her worst visions.

Gwaine quietly left them alone.

“I’m here, Morgana. Come home. We need you too,” Gwen murmured and cooed. “Come home.”

Morgana dried her eyes and pulled back a bit. “Is this really all true?”

Gwen nodded her head and pulled out a small envelope which she handed to Morgana. “This is from Arthur.”

Dear Sister,

By now you have been informed of what has happened in Camelot. I cannot convey strongly enough my deep regret that I was not able to make Camelot safe for you long, long ago. So much heartache might have been prevented. I know how proud you are, and I imagine it might be difficult for you to return home to us. But I want you to know that we each remember the caring, compassionate, justice-loving warrior who fought to defend Ealdor. I will never forget the brave young woman who stood up to Uther again and again--even when I lacked the courage to do so myself.

There was a sickness in Camelot that poisoned us all, but change is underway. You helped make this change possible when you came to us and laid aside your hurts to act as a true friend to us all.

Please, let us return that favour.

Come home, Morgana.

-Arthur

Morgana read Arthur’s letter. Twice. She folded it back into the envelope, held it to her heart, and nodded at Gwen. “Yes...yes.” She smiled into Gwen’s hopeful face. “Yes, I’ll come...home.” 

The two women threw their arms around each other, and this time Morgana’s shoulders shook with laughter rather than tears.

It took two days for Morgana to make her farewells to the villagers. This winter home had been an important place of healing for her, and she would never forget the people who had made her feel worthy of love for nothing more than giving of herself to them.

They set out for Camelot on a lovely spring morning. The fog had lifted, and the sun filtered through the bright new leaves. The forest was like a tapestry woven of the varied yellows, whites, and shades of green particular to early spring. Because the leaves were just emerging there was a lacy quality to the foliage...and the freshness of the young leaves was so very appropriate to the new beginnings this day heralded.

Gwen rode ahead chatting with Sir Thomas, who Morgana didn’t know. Morgana and Gwaine followed side by side behind them.

“Well, well,” teased Gwaine. “Who knew the ice princess could melt and display such waterworks. Hmm...I wonder what I can get from you to keep this bit of information quiet.”

Morgana smiled, and it was in truth rather a terrifying smile. “Hmm...well...you may be able to get me to refrain from practicing the spell I recently learned. It’s a permanent depilatory...causing complete, total, and irrevocably permanent hair loss. Then again...you would be the perfect one for me to practice on...and really...who needs all that floof on his head anyway.”

“But...but...you love my floofy hair...don’t you? I was so hoping one day you’d want to run your fingers through it.” 

“Behave yourself, Sir Knight, and we shall see.” Morgana cantered ahead of Gwaine so that he wouldn’t see the joyous grin she simply could not contain.

As they approached the gates of Camelot, a fresh breeze swept over the land, carrying the green scent of healthy new growth after a spring rain. Morgana stopped her horse, took in a deep breath, and gazed at the pennants flying from the white turrets. Gwen brought her horse close to Morgana’s, stopped by her side, and reached for her hand. “My lady, welcome home.”

_End Note: Readers may notice certain similarities to current events in the news. I may have indulged in some wishful thinking to assuage my distress about recent events._

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear thoughts and comments...they make me happy!


End file.
